


bolts and oil does not a man make (but he's certainly more of a man than you)

by Xratis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Ill be updating the tags as i go along, M/M, Multi, Null Sector, Omnic Crisis, Omnic Racism, Omnic Rights, Other, Pre-Fall, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Reader is Support, Reader is amab but it probably wont come up, Reader is pro omnic, Talon - Freeform, reader is gender-neutral
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 20:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11112006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xratis/pseuds/Xratis
Summary: There was an explosion at your workshop a few months after Null Sector's attack on King's Row. You were rescued by Overwatch and have questions.Reader is a mechanic who repaired omnics at the height of the omnic crisis, your workshop is destroyed by a Talon attack and now you're being temporarily held at Watchpoint: Gibraltar.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What even is overwatch lore lmfao ok so heres some things
> 
> 1\. Takes place about a month or two after Null Sector attacks King's Row
> 
> 2\. Everyone appears as they did during the omnic crisis. meaning jack isnt a senile old man yet, gabe is still part of overwatch, mccree and genji are blackwatch
> 
> 3\. All playable characters will be in Overwatch with the exception of Widowmaker, and Sombra who will still make their own appearances in later chapters.
> 
> 4\. Reader uses they/them pronouns but is written with a man in mind. There will not be any smut, but the reader is AMAB. But it probably won't really matter. 
> 
> 5\. I'm an mlm author and the main love interests will be males but I'll write female love interests if you want me to.
> 
> 6\. The Overwatch timeline is all fucky lmao

You felt the headache first. It was throbbing, pounding behind your eyes and radiating to your temple. Your moaned, pinching your eyes shut and gritting your teeth.

The second thing you noticed was how your body felt like it had gotten hit by a truck. An ache that spanned your entire body and sharpened as you raised your hand to the bridge of your nose. You hissed, yanking your arm back down against your better judgement only burning your muscles more. You furrowed your eyebrows together and squinted against the light as your eyes finally opened.

The overwhelming cleanliness of the room sickened you. The smell made you nauseous in the obscure way only hospitals could. You set your jaw and focused on breathing through your teeth.

You lolled your head to the side weakly trying to get a grasp on your surroundings. White room. Tubes ran out of your left arm and into a hanging machine that displayed your vitals in a way you couldn't make heads or tails of. You raised your right hand against the light that shone down on you. Plastic tag bracelet, light blue robe. Someone had changed you out of your work clothes.

Your right arm was metal.

You jolted up, a wave of pain washed over you from the sudden motion and the tubes yanked your arm sharply. You stared down at your arm, panic and confusion creased your face.

_ Click _ . “Oh, you're awake!” Your eyes darted to the right, past the five identical empty beds to the woman standing in the door.

You were never much a religious type, but you knew an angel when you saw one.

“I’m dead.” You said absently, letting your arm fall back to your side.

“I should hope not.” She laughs this airy titter that made your heart flutter as she strode across the room to your side. “If you died then I didn't do my job very well.” She swiped two fingers downward through the air, projecting a gesture screen at her fingertips. Her fingers danced rapidly across the screen before swiping it to the side and sitting in the chair next to your bed. You watched each other for a long time.

“So!” She clapped her hands together. “I am Dr. Ziegler if you don't recall. I told you when we brought you in but you were quite out of it at the time. How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” You didn't remember the last time you felt so exhausted.

She moved her screen in front of her again. “I'm sure. Do you remember what happened?”

“An explosion.”  _ Sleeves rolled up, oil smeared up your arms. Picking at the tools beside you, working inside an omnics back. Dim warehouse, hundreds scrapped mechanisms behind you, you raise your hand to wipe sweat from your forehead. Salvaged parts shake on the floor, you hear their rattle before you felt it under your knees. You straighten your back, turning behind you. Heat, a flash that approached you. The ceiling began to crumble.  _ “Right?” You met her eyes. She typed her notes on the screen.

_ Early morning light streaming in from the holes in the ceiling, dust and smoke rising making it hard to breathe. Fire. You try to push the slabs of crumpled ceiling off of your body. You cannot. You can't call for help through the coughing that racks your body. _

“It was sudden. I, uh, I was working in the shop and then… explosion. Was fuzzy from that point on.”

_ Ears ringing, muffled shouts in the distance; cotton in your ears. Metal whining and electric zaps all around you. People were shouting. _

“Yes, good. Anything else?”

You shook your head no.

“I see.” She swiped upwards, the gesture monitor sliding shut she folded her hands on her lap. “My name is Dr. Angela Ziegler, I'm a field medic working with Overwatch. Do you know of us?” Your stomach clenched. Boy did you ever. You nodded. She beamed with a smile that could part clouds. “Wonderful. You never know how many memories are retained after the kind of head trauma you suffered. She leaned over and put her hand on top of yours. You realized that the dirt under your fingernails had been scrubbed clean. “Now, you rest up, I’ll go let the commander know you've woken up.”

You watched her glide out of the room on a set of mechanical wings. Definitely an angel.

You looked down at your hands again, one familiar and one foreign, a metal limb you had never seen before. Every speck of dirt you were used to seeing scrubbed clean, your callouses felt softer, did they  _ file _ your  _ nails _ ? They were shorter and smoother than usual, a soft round edge. You kept your nails short, your job mandated it, but you were never particular with how they looked. You wore gloves most of the day anyway. Your nails were carefully filed down to blunt symmetrical curves.

Aesthetic precision wasn't part of your line of work. You couldn't help but wonder why they would do such a thing.

Anxiety gripped your stomach. Here you are, at Overwatch. You'd expected that they'd have questions for you eventually but you didn't think it'd be so soon. The timing was impeccable, just a few months after Null Sector’s attack on King's Row Talon came for you. You ran scenarios through your head, each worse than the last. From what you've seen on the news Strike Commander Jack Morrison wasn't exactly intimidating, but picturing you on the receiving end of his aggression managed to warp the blue eyes you pictures into something menacing enough to make you wish the explosion actually  _ did _ take you out.

You sighed and sunk down into your hospital bed, praying the pillow would swallow you whole before you have to meet him.

* * *

 

“They're awake, Jack.”

Jack looked up from his desk to Angela standing in the doorframe. “I see. Thank you, Angela.” He turned his head back to his paperwork. She shifted her weight between her feet, considering her words carefully.

“Do you need something else?” He raised his head slightly, an eyebrow quirked. 

“Just… go easy on them, Jack. They just woke up and are probably still a bit confused.”

“I'll do whatever I need to to get answers.”

Mercy sighed at his determination, unwavering as always. She'd have to be there, to monitor the victim's vitals  _ and _ to keep an eye on Jack. She swiped at the air pulling open her comunipad typing out a message to Ana. Captain Amari always had been best at keeping Jack in check.

Well… at least it wasn't Gabe.


	2. Chapter 2

Mercy guided you out of the med bay to a glass elevator. Your eyes flicked to the panel,  _ Hello, Mercy. _ the panel displayed. Mercy tapped the button farthest down.

The elevator glided smoothly, below the top floor the shaft was entirely glass giving you a view of the morning sun as it began to peak over the tops of the buildings. You watched the outside as you made the descent, you couldn't see much, the med bay was covered by a tunnel thing and the many buildings made it hard to see where the island ended and the ocean began. But you saw the sparkling of the blue water, surface glinting with the rising sun. You squinted at it before it was obscured by the lobby levels cement shaft.

You turned to Mercy, out the door and her arms reaching in to stop the elevator from closing in on you. She smiled and you weakly smiled back and walked to her side.

You stood besides Mercy in front of the med bays entrance. The shadows looming over you from the building across the paved road shrunk and when the light shone in your eyes you raised your hands to block it. It was chilly. Not cold. But just chilly. The chill you feel when you wake up and immediately go outside without changing into your outdoors clothes but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle.

A transport pulled around the bend and stopped in front of you and Mercy. “Good morning, Agent.” Said an electronic voice from the unmanned car. “Hello, Athena.” She smiled at no one in particular as you slid into the seat far right. Mercy sat in the seat beside you.

The vehicle reminded you of something between a trolley and a golf cart, no doors, just bars to support yourself on. You looked sightlessly out the side to the high cliffs as they passed.

“Don't be nervous.” You turned to look at Mercy. “The commander can be scary but he can't actually hurt you. Plus, I’ll be with you the entire time! So, try not to worry, okay?” She beamed and you nodded numbly, offering a weak smile yourself.

She was right, nothing you were doing was expressly illegal after all. You held onto that thought as the transport slowed to a stop before another building.

The med bay was all white walls and tall windows, feeling open while still being enclosed. You already felt suffocated just looking at this building.

High barred windows on the walls accenting a low cement ceiling, the elevator looked more like a cargo shaft. You stepped in, followed by Mercy to asked Athena to bring you to sub basement three.

Who on  _ earth  _ needs a sub basement  _ three? _

You hadn't even met the commander yet and you were ready to spill your guts.

The elevator doors opened to a long hallway of monotony, steel doors with tiny windows lining the walls. Mercy walked you to the third door on your left.

“The commander should be here soon. Remember, I'm right outside if you need me for anything, okay?” She smiled a smile that made the hallway just a little bit brighter and you walked into the room.

The door shut behind you and you took in just how depressing this place was. Its was completely empty with the exception of a metal table and an uncomfortable chair sitting in the center of the room lit by the single overhead light the wall opposite the door had a one way mirror, you approached and cupped your hands over it and peered inside. It was empty sans the machines that had been left on. You pulled back, fingertips still grazing the surface as you straightened your back. In the mirror you watched the door open and shut behind a man whose aura was already borderline suffocating.

You eyed him and he eyed you back. The sharp blues you'd seen dozens of times on the news shone in a new light now with you on the recieving end of their scrutiny. He wasn't facing you head on, but his head turned over his shoulder towards you, you couldn't tell if he was actively trying to make himself look larger or if his shoulders were genuinely that broad. He had the shoulder waist ratio of a goddamn dorito.

He was hot.

He stepped forward to the metal table separating you two and you did too. He took the seat when he realized you weren't going to– it was probably a power move, if you sat you'd have to look up at him but if  _ he _ sat then he was confident enough in his abilities to not  _ need _ it.

He silently shuffled through papers stuffed into a manilla folder looking up so often to analyze you like he was comparing you to the data in his hands.

You didn't like this guy. You couldn't get a read on him.

He spoke first. “What were you doing at that facility at the time of the explosion?”

It took you a moment to process the question. “I work there.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean 'why’?” Your back straightened. You could feel yourself growing defensive over you didn't know what.

He leaned forward, discarding the folder the side, his elbows leaned into the metal table and his fingers laced together in front of his chin.

“A human working in an omnic production and repair facility at the height of the omnic crisis? Most of those factories are temporarily closed down and are being monitored after Null Sector's attack on King's Row. The rest are operating illegally underground.”

“I'm not supporting the Human-Omnic war if that's what you're insinuating.” He leaned back in his chair, his arms extended out against the table surface and even under that jacket you could see the way the muscles of his shoulders shifted at the stretch. He tilted his head back like he was looking down his nose at you. It pissed you off. “I just fix up the innocents that get caught in the crossfire.”

“'Innocents’?” His immaculately sculpted eyebrows rose.

“Not every omnic is a violent extremist supporting the war!” You were getting agitated. Something about this guy seriously got under your skin.

“Do you support omnics?”

“What?”

“Do you support them?”

Your eyebrows furrowed together. You couldn't get a read on this guy at all, every time you think you had him figured out he said something (something you should have been expecting at that) that threw you off and phased you just enough that you were never fully confident in your place.

“No more than I support humans. Not all omnics are genocidal terrorists, some are guilty and some are innocent just the same as either one of us. Omnics aren't inherently good or evil it's their individual circumstances that shape their morality, not that they were built instead of born.”

Jack drummed his fingers against the rim of the table taking in what you had said. You were interesting, that much was for certain. Few humans were able to account for omnic morality in the way you did, on either side. But what you were doing was still illegal. Underground operation of omnic production and repairs had been temporarily suspended in most developed nations until the crisis was averted, the U.K. being at the top of that list. Your workshop was in an abandoned auto repair shop along one of the back alleys of King's Row, you should have been shut down the second you were discovered. Not to mention the fact that you weren't paying any property taxes on the building since you probably more or less just broke in and set up shop. Though you were only fixing 'innocents’ the possibility that you were a bad judge of character and were inadvertently assisting the uprising was always a very real possibility. Worse yet you could have been working  _ for _ Null Sector, by your own volition or not. Omnic supporters were often hard to pin down.

Null Sector probably wouldn't have destroyed your shop when they discovered it, no, they would have taken you as a prisoner and forced you to work for them. That disqualifies them as the perpetrator. That didn't mean you couldn't be working with them however. Talon wouldn't have any use of an omnic mechanic like you, being as anti omnic as they were they probably couldn't even identify the possible benefits of having omnics on their side. But they still could have been the ones to attack.

The real question was how they found you before the government who kept a watchful eye on any and all omnic activity did. Omnics going into an abandoned warehouse and coming out good as new  _ should  _ have been a sign. But the only reason Overwatch and the British government discovered you was because of the attack.

If the explosion didn't have as much collateral damage as it did there was always the possibility that no one would have even found you, trapped under rubble with both legs broken and unable to move it's hard to say whether you'd have died from the fire the explosion caused or your untreated wounds.

Even in the hands of Overwatch you'd been unconscious for two weeks under the care of Mercy and the most technologically advanced medical machinery in the modern world. They were unsure whether or not you'd even make it out. But of what Jack knew about you from this conversation alone he had a feeling you'd held on out of spite if for no other reason.

Of course this was all speculation on his part, he'd have to discuss with the rest of Overwatch and eventually ( _ eugh _ ) the UN to get a proper investigation underway. And until then…

He pushed himself up from his chair collecting the documents and paperwork he'd brought with him.

“What, that's it?”

He looked up at you. “For now.”

“No good cop bad cop routine? What am I supposed to do now?”

“Mercy is still outside, she'll take you back to the medical building. You'll have to stay there until she decides you're well enough to get a proper quarters.”

“Quarters? I'm staying here?”

“We have more questions for you, but for now you need to just need to rest. Mercy's outside when you're ready to go.” He opened the door and let it fall shut behind him.

In the room alone, with his suffocating presence gone you could feel eyes on you. You turned back to the single sided mirror one last time before you left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why it took so goddamn long to finish this: ows timeline is all kinds of fucked up and i couldnt devide whether i wanted this to be pre or post fall and honestly if you look back at the other chapters youll see me fluxuating between the two. Anyway ive settled on pre fall because i love gabriel reyes more than i love myself

You injuries were both better and worse than you expected them to be. You didn't have nearly as many broken bones as you would have expected to have after having an entire building collapse on top of you. You were stable and still had moderate control over most of your limbs. Actually, your injuries were much better than you anticipated. You just weren't a particularly realistic person and wanted the pain to alleviate instantly. Mercy explained that your condition was initially much worse, shattered ribs and broken bones just  _ everywhere _ . Since Overwatch had found you and she could take you into her medical care early on however most of them were mended by the time you woke up. You were bruised to hell and back though.

Everything hurt. You felt like you were hit by a train, except the train was a building that was on fire and it fell on top of you.

There was the matter of your arm though.

Once the shock finally wore off you better believe you rampaged like a goddamned monster. You woke up in a haze from oversleeping, injury, and a metric fuck ton of painkillers. Once your medically induced confusion cleared and you could see the bolts and plates where your arm  _ should have _ been you freaked the fuck out.

“I never consented to this!” You barked at Mercy, flesh hand pounded against her desk, metal pointing at her accusingly. “Look, I'm grateful that you saved me and all but isn't my whole ass  _ arm  _ a matter that should have waited for me to wake up?!”

Mercy bowed her head. “I am truly sorry.” She said. “But you were unconscious and losing blood at an alarming rate, you weren't in any position to make informed medical decisions.”

You opened your mouth to argue but shut it before you did.

“Listen, [Y/N], it was a matter of life and death. You would have bled out if I didn't perform the operation when I did, and yes you absolutely would have bled out. It's not up for debate, that we got there when we did was a miracle in and of itself.” She stood up and gave you a comforting smile. “I assure you, you'll get used to it. Soon enough you won't even realize the difference.”

Your arms fell to your side, you clenched and unclenched your fists as you seethed. You knew she was right, you would have died without it. That didn't stop you from being mad though. Her smile was radiant and you couldn't continue glaring at her for long. With a huff you turned your head away and admit defeat.

She reached across the desk and put a gentle hand on your arm. “You'll get used to it in no time. Plenty of Overwatch members have mechanical prosthetics. If you ever need help I could ask them to speak with you.”

The last thing you wanted right now was more help. You crossed your arms and pouted. “I guess.” You grumbled. She smiled and wrote something down in a notepad on her desk.

“Now, as well as physical therapy for your arm I’d also like to speak to you about psychiatric therapy.”

You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Very few people survive an explosion like you did with no mental repercussions.” She elaborated, clasping her hands together and then pulling them apart to gesture with her words. “Even if you feel alright now there's always a possibility that you will develop post traumatic stress disorder as a result.” You drummed your fingers against the desk considering her words. “Of course I can't force you to attend, but I do strongly recommend it. Caring for your mental health is just as important as your physical health after all.”

You nodded with her as she scribbled something onto a sticky note and gave it to you. “If you decide to meet with him let me know, alright?” She smiled and stood up indicating that the conversation was over.

* * *

 

You’d been tinkering with your new arm since you became spatially aware enough to, calibrating and recalibrating it over and over again, it never felt right. Never functioned the way it was supposed to. You suppose that that should have been expected, how could a mechanical arm function the same as your organic one after all, but it infuriated you. Pissed you right off.

You threw the screwdriver down on the bedside table next to you. You clenched your jaw and ran through your motion tests again. Thumb, one two, index, one two three, middle, one two three, ring, one two- “Dammit!” you curled your fist into a ball and pounded it against the table.

You got up fast enough to knock your chair back, the legs skidded against the floor nearly toppling over as you stomped your way to the door. You slammed it shut behind you.

You needed some fresh fucking air.

You stomped out of the med bay and ruffled your hair. You were so frustrated. God you could really go for a smoke right about now. But smoking was prohibited in the watchpoint, you'd have to go to town and, considering how Morrison acted around you, something told you that you'd need a chaperone.

You let your curses turn into grumbles turn into aggressive muttering as you paced around the watchpoint. You really needed one of your vices. 

As you walked around in the midday sun you saw two shadows peeking from around the corner. You stopped. You really weren't in the mood to deal with anymore Overwatch soldiers. But these two were different. Not standing at attention, sitting perpendicular to the sun and if you listened closely you could hear the soft chime of gentle bells. Against your better judgement you peeked around the corner.

You jolted.

Two omnics.

Two omnics?

_ Two _ ? Omnics?

There was certainly  _ an _ omnic, and then there was an amalgamation of one next to him. Scarred flesh peaked out from metal edges and inky black hair slicked up from his head. There were cords and wires connecting his metal body to his organic one. You had met cyborgs before. But none with such a large percentage  _ metal _ .

Almost as if he could read your thoughts the cyborg's head spun around looking at you over his shoulder. His red eyes went straight through you. You froze. His muscles tensed and he spun around, one hand on his blade attached to his back one on the ground between his feet hunched over like an animal ready to attack.

Some tension in your shoulders released as you saw the omnic next to him slowly raise his hand. “Genji.” He said. His voice was gentle but stern. The cyborg (Genji?) didn't sit back down, but he didn't make a move to attack you either. “There's no need to watch from so far away.” The omnic said to you.

You stepped out from around the corner, cheeks lightly dusted with pink as you tried to look anywhere  _ except _ Genjis eyes. “Oh! Uh, sorry, I... Sorry. I was just surprised is all. To see an omnic here, I mean.” The omnic rose and turned to face you. “I thought Overwatch was anti-omnic and all.”

The omnic let out a soft melodious laugh and gestured to the ground next to him, an invitation. You shyly approached the pair; Genji watching you like a hawk eventually, slowly, sat back down.

You hadn't seen an omnic that resembled a human in a long time. As tensions rose fewer people were designing humanoid robots, when they resembled people humans couldn't help but begin to treat them as such. It was easier on the conscious to take out an omnic that was 100% sharp edges and boxy pieces. They felt less guilty that way. When it looked like a robot it was like turning off a computer. When it looked like a person you could feel the blood on your hands.

“Fortunately not.” He said. You had a feeling he was smiling. “Overwatch is simply anti omnic war.”

“Coulda fooled me.” You crossed your legs sitting down beside him. “Some of the people here are so...”

“Yes, it's unfortunate. One can only hope that once the immediate threat has passed they can find it in themselves to accept omnics among them.” You were amazed by how at peace he seemed to be with the entire situation. You weren't even an omnic and you were always the first to argue on their behalf, you could never maintain your composure like this. “My name is Zenyatta, this is Genji. And you are the mechanic, correct?”

You nodded, telling them your name.

“It's nice to have an expert that doesn't abjectly dislike Omnics.”

“The mechanics here  _ do _ ?” That seemed counterproductive. What the hell would Overwatch need an anti-omnic mechanic for anyway? You figured that as long as you were here youd probably be expected to attend to the omnic(s) that were part of the organization.

“Well, I suppose they're not truly mechanics. One's an engineer and the other... A demolitionist, if you would.”

You clicked your tongue. God, you hated anti-omnics. “Good on you for dealing with them.” 

“I simply prefer to preoccupy myself with things that matter. Meditating with Genji helps with keeping the important things in sight. I usually chant for the war to end, other times I chant for Jamison to finally take a bath.”

Holy fuck. You don't know who Jamison is, but goddamn if he wasn't just murdered right in front of your eyes. You laughed, crossing your legs under yourself. Most omnics didn't have nasal sensors, so it must be  _ bad _ . “Gotta avoid that one then?”

“You'll know when he's coming, you can smell the gunpowder before you see the ash.”

How could people think omnics weren't people? You couldn't program that kind of sass. Probably. You were a mechanic, not an AI developer. You laughed again, quieter this time and looked out over the body of water you were facing. A shipping boat slowly passed. You were far from happy about this, all of this, but there was a manifested relief to learning Overwatch wasn't explicitly anti-omnic. You definitely wouldn't have been able to deal with that.

You took a deep breath in and pushed yourself up from your knees. “Well, anyway. I'm gonna go take a nap, sorry about interrupting your meditation session.”

“It's not a problem, feel free to join us again whenever you like.”

You smiled and waved as you began your trek back to the medical wing.

“They're not very attentive, are they?” Genji rest his chin in his palm when you turned past the building and were out of sight.

“Whatever are you talking about, Genji?” Zenyatta asked almost coyly as he silently recalled his harmony orb from your retreating form.


End file.
